


Chicken Soup For The Spock

by tielan



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 17:55:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29888343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tielan/pseuds/tielan
Summary: Rest. Relaxation. Snuggling. One of these things is less Vulcan than the others.
Relationships: James T. Kirk & Spock, Leonard "Bones" McCoy & Spock, Spock/Nyota Uhura
Comments: 7
Kudos: 36
Collections: Froday Flash Fiction Fandom Battle





	Chicken Soup For The Spock

Once it was ascertained that his illness was neither a concerning disease, nor that he was not contaigious to the crew, Spock was permitted to return to his quarters.

"And you're to stay there until _I_ determine you're better. None of this harebraining around like Jim!"

"I am not a hare," Spock said as he stepped out of the isolation room where he'd been kept the last few days. He made the comment more to prod his friend than to actually protest the designation. "Therefore, I cannot have a hare's brain."

McCoy just snorted as he entered data into the _Enterprise'_ s medical systems. "I'd ask what that says about Jim, but I think we know what that says about Jim! Rest. Relax. Watch a holo or a dozen. I'd tell you to snuggle with Uhura, but you're neither of you the snuggling type."

Spock did not point out that there were times when Nyota was very amenable to snuggling. It was not McCoy's business, and his presumptions did no damage.

It was a quiet shift, and so Spock only met one or two crewmembers as he made his way through the ship to his rooms, and none of the bridge crew. This was a quiet section of their mission for most of the crew, travelling between stars. Apart from the divisions involved in managing the warp drives - mainly engineering - most Enterprise crew took the time to - as McCoy had said - 'rest, relax, watch a holo' and, yes, spend time with those closest to them _._

He received the call on his communication just as he reached his room.

"Captain."

"Spock. I hear you've been let out of the clutches of the eeeeevil Dr. McCoy!" Kirk sounded ebullient - although when did he not?

Entering his quarters, Spock glanced around. Everything was in place, as he'd left it before he reported to McCoy with headaches and exhaustion that none of his medical disciplines could reduce. He sat down on the small couch across from his desk and relaxed into the cushioning.

"He released me on 'good behaviour'."

"Lucky for him, you're always on good behaviour." In the background, voices murmured and boards clacked, the sounds of a room of technicians at work. "Look, we're two days away from the next system, so take this time off. I'd like nothing more than to drag you back to the bridge - Uhura shuts down all my jokes instead of running with them, and Chekov plays 'lost in translation'! But I'll need you bright and chirpy when we make orbit."

"Uhura knows your sense of humour," Spock remarked, thinking of the way his lover stared at Kirk with an expression that so often suggested she was one comment away from braining him with her chair. He was not concerned for Kirk; Nyota's unamused looks at Jim was as much expectation as it was exasperation. "But McCoy has already told me to rest and relax."

He doesn't mention the snuggling.

"Good stuff. Let me know if you need anything."

Even the short walk across the ship and the brief talk with Kirk left Spock feeling more than a little drained. In a moment, he would cross over to the bed and lie down. Rest, relax, and...well, Nyota was not here for him to 'snuggle' was she? Spock briefly considered calling her to talk, then decided not to concern her. She would be busy, focused on her work with the laser sharp gaze that had brought her to his notice at the Academy.

But it would be...a pleasant diversion from the frustrations of his ailing body to lean into her side right now.

A pleasant diversion...

Spock woke in low light, disoriented. He was still on the couch in his room, but the lights had dimmed in response to a lack of movement and...

His comms rang discreetly. "Spock?"

"Nyota." A knock sounded, and he came to the realisation that what woke him was the chime of his door. He started to climb to his feet, then gave up and ordered the room lighting to a similar setting as that of morning on Vulcan (Old Vulcan) and commanded the door to open.

Poetry was not Spock's strong suit, but he had done his readings of Earth culture and an ancient poem from the Asias came to mind: _she moves like the wind in the morning_. The phrase described both Nyota's grace and the crispness of her actions.

She was carrying something in her hands and set it down on the desk before turning to him and...hesitating.

"I am not contaigious," he told her.

To another, it would be a statement of a fact. To Nyota, it was an invitation, and after a moment, the careful stiffness of her face eased and she sat down beside him, wrapping an arm around his back and leaning into him.

"I woke you. I'm sorry."

Spock slid an arm around her, easing the warm weight of her against his side. There was a very human comfort in this contact, and while Spock had once rejected that aspect of himself, he had since learned how to accept some of the feelings that his upbringing on Vulcan considered unsuitable. Having spent so much time trying to be as Vulcan as possible in behaviour, sometimes it was so easy to forget that his mother's influence also underwrote his Vulcan psychology.

"I had planned to lay down after Dr. McCoy discharged me. It seems my best-laid plans did not survive contact with the couch."

She jerked with a spurt of laughter that subsided after a few moments. "I didn't come to stay long. But...I brought you food." She indicated the container on the benchtop. "I know the replicator can produce anything that we ask it to, but...I wanted to actually make something for you."

Spock had heard the stories of Nyota's childhood - of her extended family of aunts and uncles and cousins. Relationships that had been important to her - and still were. A group of people related to her by blood and history, who would gather together around food and drink and the process of eating several times a year. For Nyota, food was not merely sustenance but social connection. A connection with those with whom she ate. A connection with those who gave her the food. A connection with those to whom she brought food.

"It also helped me not to fret about you while McCoy was checking that you weren't seriously ill," she admitted into his collarbone. "I needed to do something with my hands and my head all together at once."

Ah. "A distraction."

"Yes."

A replicator could make Spock whatever meal he pleased, or provide the nutrient cubes that were sufficient for his body's needs. But it occurred to him that amidst her workload, Nyota had spent her time and energy and thought putting together a meal for him. The value was not in the food itself, nor the act of cooking, but in the work that Nyota assigned to it - not only as something to keep her from worrying, but also as something she could do for him.

He looked down at the top of her head. "What food did you make me?"

"Chicken soup."

"Chicken soup." He was familiar with the concept, but he would not have expected something quite so...pedestrian from Nyota.

"My grandfather's chicken soup." She sat up, and stared him down defiantly, as though he would mock her efforts. "He made pots and pots of it for our family celebrations. It has...oh, a host of ingredients that are regional to Earth, and a very specific recipe that my grandfather swore had to be followed to the letter. It's as close as I could get, but it's not quite... I'm...not a very good cook."

She started to stand, most likely with the intent of getting him the food. But Spock caught her hand and pulled her gently back to him. "The quality of the food is less relevant than that you made it for me."

It took her a moment to respond, just looking at him like she wasn't quite sure what she was hearing. "The journey rather than the destination?"

"Yes."

"But you're not going to eat it now?"

"A more logical use of time is to spent the present with you and eat later."

She huffed a little, eyeing him as though he was joking, but settled back into his side with a faint sigh.

Spock did not sigh. But he settled into her and asked what news around the ship, and Nyota answered him with the blend of frank speaking and dry humour that intrigued him from their first meeting.

Rest. Relaxation. Snuggling. Spock comprehended the value in McCoy's advice.


End file.
